Mercy
by Roar-ra
Summary: Clint watches the scene enraged, screaming soundlessly he would kill his own body in a heartbeat if he could - he wonders if it would be considered suicide or murder. Spoilers: Let's assume you've seen the movie. Now with smutty finale :
1. Chapter 1

Email: Roar_ra 

Title: Mercy

Rating: Big old NC-17 for angst-wrought sex and dark, dark stuff.

Pairing: Black Widow/Nighthawk Clint/Natasha unrequited Loki/Natasha

Synopsis: Clint watches the scene enraged, screaming soundlessly he would kill his own body in a heartbeat if he could - he wonders if it would be considered suicide or murder.

Spoilers: Let's assume you've seen the movie.

Disclaimer: Disclaimers? We don't need not stinking disclaimers! What's that Mr. Lawyer? We do need stinking disclaimers? Oh well... They don't belong to me. Big surprise.

Momentary confusion… How did they get here? Should they be doing this? Somehow, with her hot, pouting lips against his, doesn't give a fuck.

"Nat... I've wanted this for so long."

She reaches out clawing at his shirt, the fabric rips before her impatient hands. She licks her lips at the sight of his bare chest, her beautiful lips cover his nipple sucking and nipping playfully.

He can't take this teasing anymore; he grabs her ass and lifts her carrying her to the bed, grinding his center against her. He moves his hands to her neck, slowly unzipping her suit, worshiping every inch with his lips on the way down.

She pulls him back up for a kiss, then gazes at him intently, as though memorizing him, this place, this moment. The one thing he should not say, must not say, comes out.

"I love you."

Her eyes shine and she smiles as she brings him back in for a kiss, it's the only answer she can give.

As he looses himself in the taste of her mouth, he notices the hue of her cheek fading from a perfect porcelain color, to cerulean.

He rears up, terrified, and looks around. Worst fears confirmed, the world is turning blue. He tries to move away from her, but he is no longer in control of his arms and legs.

He exerts every iota of control and manages to gasp out "RUN!"

She looks up at him, confused, then sees his eyes and horror appears. A rain of blows comes almost instantaneously, her hits, kicks, elbows all trying to catch his head, attempting to knock out the presence she knows is in his brain.

Control of his body is completely gone. Clint watches, a specter, from across the room.

He can see what he's doing to her, FEEL everything, yet control nothing.

Brave, stupid girl. She should have run. Because the force controlling him knows exactly what she's trying to do, and uses that, along with the knowledge that she's trying _not_ to kill him, against her. His body stays firmly pinned against her, brushing away the blows and quickly immobilizing her arms by tying them to the bed.

An arrow appears in his hand. He caresses her cheek with the razor edge, working it down her neck and breasts artfully making patterns while not quite cutting through her skin. When he reaches her stomach, he cuts through the remaining material of her suit from navel down exposing her completely. She tenses, but refuses to scream or beg.

A slow, evil smile appears on his face.

"Nat… I've wanted this for so long." He pulls her hair roughly back and ravages her mouth as he frees himself. He places the arrow against her breast, over her heart, he pushes his cock against her hot center. The arrow pricks her skin a small red trickle drips down her ribcage.

Clint watches the scene enraged, screaming soundlessly, he would kill his own body in a heartbeat if he could - he wonders if it would be considered suicide or murder.

She gasps as he ends the kiss and allows her to breathe again. Tears shine but do not fall as he forces her legs roughly apart. She stares at him, trying to pierce through the veil of blue to the man she knows is still behind those eyes.

"Clint, if you can here me, I need you to know –"

She is not allowed to finish the sentence. His cock and the arrow home at the same time.

Her eyes widen, she tries to speak, but only a small gargle of blood emerges. Mutely, she reaches out to caress his face, leaving two delicate lines of blood across his cheek, trying to express what she cannot say. Her arm falls.

Clint yells like a wounded animal as he is forced to watch his body continue to fuck her savagely while her heart stops, Clint can feel his building orgasm and hears his own voice cold hard voice as the pleasure peaks.

"I love you."

He holds her in that horrible final embrace as heart stops, her lifeblood draining, covering them both.

Her eyes close. The tears she did not allow in life finally are allowed their freedom and trail down her cheeks.

And then the worst.

He's suddenly back in control. He's holding her body, still inside her. A terrible keening wail hits his hears and he realizes it's his own voice. He holds her tightly, rocking her, kissing her tears, tasting her blood mixed with them.

Movement behind him. Loki.

"I was far more merciful than I wanted to be, you know… I suppose that's because I loved her – YOU'RE to blame for that."

The mad, sorrowful eyes stare accusingly down at him as though Clint should be apologize for causing the insane god such pain.

He looks up, covered in her blood, confusion warring with the anguish and rage.

"Looking into your mind, you showed her to me through your eyes, you memories… I HAD to love her, it's _YOUR FAULT_."

He thought the pain couldn't possibly get worse, he was wrong. He closes his eyes and prays for the end he knows is coming.

"But there'll be less mercy for you, my archer. You'll live in agony much longer than she did.

"This is my curse upon you Hawkeye, may you live forever, the widow's widow… without love."

The scythe comes down in one sharp movement, Clint sees his bow arm on the ground next to him.

"And without vengeance."

He shoots upright in bed, covered in sweat, woken by the sounds of his own scream. The same dream, night after night, loving her, murdering her, Loki's revenge, the same scene each time he closes his eyes. Curling in a tight ball, he bites his fist to keep from crying out again.

Natasha listens to sounds of her partner ear-piercing agony in the next room.

It's been a week since Manhattan, a week of suffering through his polite indifference during the day, and listening to his tortured screaming every night. He will not talk about it, not to her, not to anyone. It's killing him, and therefore, killing her as well.

There's a quiet sound at her door, an envelope slides through, inside is a keycard and a note.

_Nat,_

_I know he's locked his door, but jesus fucking christ, it's my building, my rules, and I demand you make him stop waking everyone else up at 2am. Fix your Hawk. Kill him only if you need to, or want to, whatever, we just need sleep._

_Good Luck _

_- Tony_

She smiles, it's not a nice smile. His avoidance shit ends now, here tonight.

-Finis

Okay, fine probably not REALLY the end I should probably let these poor kids make nice… or naughty as needed. Sequel is already worming it's way through my brain.

Authors Notes: This is my first Avengers fic, so please let me know what you think. Hope this didn't skeve too many people out, I know it's dark, but I've had this 'Nighthawk's Nightmare' scenario rolling around in my head since watching the movie last week. Is this story ok or am I wasting my time and yours? Feedback is treasured forever and always responded to - Roar_ra


	2. Chapter 2

**Merciless**

Perched on the balcony, he stares out at the city. This is his comfort zone.

He scans the buildings and cars below, trying to recover, trying to remember himself before Loki, trying to forget the nightmare that haunts him every time he closes his eyes.

He wakes to the sound of his own screams each night. That's why he's out here now, trying to shake the remnants of his latest visions, letting the wind dry the sweat and tears he woke up covered in.

Years spent perched on ledges and tonight for the first time, he contemplates jumping. Nah, probably not a good idea, Nat would have Tony bring him back to life just so she could kill him again herself, and a good deal more painfully.

Tilting his head back slightly he closes his eyes.

No sound betrays her, he just knows. A scent undetectable by anyone else, not perfume, just pure Natasha.

Desire spikes through his despair, anger quickly follows. It's not a good combination.

"The door was locked for a reason, Nat."

"Why's that?" Her voice is deceptively soft.

"Go away."

"Seriously, I want some reasons."

Her voice nears, he can't look at her.

"Reasons why you lock your door."

He can feel her breath on the back of his neck. His comfort zone is 200 feet, hers is 2 inches.

"Reasons why you won't talk to me."

He looks away as she puts a hand on his bicep.

"Reasons you won't look at me."

His breath hitches. Her cool fingers burn against his bare skin. He's got to get her out of here. Now.

Pushing past her he brushes off her hand.

A low growl. Aw crap, she usually only makes that sound before -

Sharp pain shoots up his arm as she effortlessly swings him around with a wrist hold and throws him against the wall. "Look at me Barton, goddammit, I'm your partner and you will fucking level with me, right now!" Furious blue eyes sear into him, holding him in place.

He relaxes against her, a sign of submission. She frees the armlock, assuming victory. What she does not expect is the strong calloused fingers biting into her arms and the fury in his eyes as he lifts her up and swings her until she's pinned to the wall.

"You want reasons, Tasha?" His voice is a rasp of fear, rage and desire. "I keep the door locked because I don't want you here!"

"I don't want to see you.." His eyes drink her in like a man dying of thirst, giving lie to the words.

"I don't want smell you." He dips his head to her neck, inhaling deeply, her breath hitches.

"I don't want to taste you." Pulling her up to his height, he breaks the one rule he's managed to follow during their partnership. The thing he's wanted to do every day since. He kisses her. Crushing her mouth under his, he pins her to the wall with his weight, as his hands burry themselves in her hair.

She gives a surprised gasp, he take the opportunity and deepens the kiss. He half expects her to pull away from him at any moment, instead she wraps her legs wrap around him, kissing her way down his neck, as she nibbles on his earlobe, his hips involuntarily thrust up, grinding his erection against her. He gives a strangled gasp "Fuck, Nat."

She purrs with victory and grinds against him in response.

He's so distracted by the feel of her against him, he doesn't notice the words until they spill from his mouth.

"Nat... I've wanted this for so long."

He freezes.

It's the beginning of his dream. Those are always the first words, his words, right before Loki takes over.

Clint pulls back in horror, tearing himself from her.

"I shouldn't have done that." He staggers to the kitchen, he's kept a bottle of vodka in the freezer for her out of force of habit. He breaks the seal and takes a long draw. "Please go." He tries not to look at her, not to be distracted by the flush of her skin or the way her lips part as she pants for breath, Jesus Christ she's panting!

Hurt, confusion, anger - these are emotions he would expect, and those are there, but what he doesn't expect is the pained laugh and stinging blow to the back of the head as she steals the bottle and sets herself on the counter next to him.

"Really, Barton, you think you can kiss your partner like that after years of working together… after ignoring me for a week… you really expect me to leave?" She takes a pull and laughs again.

Her eyes darken and her tone is suddenly serious. "You have to talk about it. For me. For us. Clint, I can't be your partner if you don't tell me what's going on."

The ultimate ultimatum.

His shoulders slump as he takes the bottle and looks at his partner, searching for the words. "The dreams… they're killing me." He takes a drink. "Every night, I… I… Fuck." He can't say it.

"You dream of being under his control again?"

He nods.

"Killing SHIELD agents?"

"No."

"Killing me?"

He nods, mute in misery.

"Slowly, intimately, in ways only you would know I fear." Her words are little more than a whisper.

He looks up at her, shocked. "What?"

"Loki and I had a little chat."

"And you didn't think this was important information to give your partner."

She glances sideways. "At the time, my partner was avoiding me like the plague."

Shame colors his cheeks.

"Tell me Clint, tell me about your nightmare."

"It starts with us. Like we were over there." He gestures to the wall he so recently had her pinned against. "Then the world turns blue. You try and knock him out of my head again, but I overpower you." A snort tells her what he thinks of that particular victory. "It's horrible, Nat. I'm trapped screaming in my own head, watching myself tear your clothing off, FEELING myself fuck you against your will while sliding an arrow into your heart."

She tits her head, thinking. No fire, no mutilation, a clean kill, that's good, perhaps even a merciful ending in the eyes of a mad god. It seems the wrong thing to say, so she remains quiet.

His fingers reach out caress the silk of her cheek without thinking.

"He called it mercy, the what he made me do to you. Told me it was my fault for making him…" His voice trails off.

"You didn't MAKE him do anything, Loki -"

He shakes his head violently. "No. You don't understand, I made him LOVE you."

She blinks.

"When he was in my head, he got everything that was in there, including you. I told him everything - every memory, every fear, every desire, he saw you though me, and I guess he liked the view." His shoulders shake with silent misery. "I'm sorry. Nat, I'm so fucking sorry."

Natasha tilts her head and makes a sound somewhere between a hum and a growl. She most definitely did NOT want to be on Loki's radar for that particular reason. However, there are more pressing matters, ones that she CAN control. Her pragmatic Russian mind quickly maps out a plan a strategy for what he needs, and how she's going to deliver on each of these things in order of importance.

Clint need to be convinced that:

1. Loki is out of his head and these are just dreams.

2. Sex with her is NOT going to be the trigger which sends him back under the bat shit crazy god's control.

3. She forgives him for causing Loki's infatuation (she refuses to indulge the notion that the mad god has the ability to love).

The solution for all of this is incredibly simple. After reaching a decision on strategy, she quells a fluttery and unfamiliar sensation, her breath quickens imperceptibly, she licks her lips in anticipation.

Completely oblivious and miserable, unable to meet her gaze, Barton is completely unprepared for her attack, he's flipped over the counter as her legs wrap around his neck and take him to the ground in one smooth movement. Gasping and choking, he looks up, she's perched above him like an avenging angel.

There's a metallic click, then another. His hands are immobilized - handcuffed to legs holding up the granite bar. He looks up at her, shocked.

"Um, Nat… Setting aside the question of where you were hiding those handcuffs, or better yet, WHY? What the fuck are you doing?"

Her smile would seduce an ordinary man, it would terrify a smarter man, Clint immediately knows he's in trouble.

"I'm persuading you." A small knife appears in her hand. His eyes widen in shock, but he does not struggle as she kneels on his chest. He watches her with a mixture of shock and arousal as the razor edge cuts through the fabric of his shirt easily - in the back of his mind where logical thought still lives, he's still wondering where the hell she's keeping all this weaponry, under that black slip of a nightgown.

"You think that you're to blame for being taken over by an insane god. You're not." The tattered remnants of the SHIELD issued garment goes flying. His breath catches as she's now straddling his bare stomach. The feel of her silky thighs and lace covered sex against his skin is making his brain short circuit.

"You think having sex with me will cause Loki to take over again. It won't." She flips around and starts working on his pants, still on top of him. She begins cutting away the fabric of his shorts, bending forward as she goes further, she allows the material of her nightgown to ride up over her ass. He makes a choked sound, she looks back over her shoulder and smiles at him, the returning gaze is of is pure, dark need.

"You think that I'll hate you for loving me." She leans over and caresses the silk of his boxers, his hips buck in response and the sound pulled from his throat is barely human. "I don't." Two quick slices and he's laid bare before her, he can feel her breath agains his aching cock as she whispers. "I just need to persuade you that you're mistaken."

She stands walks away a few steps, trying to even out her own breathing. She looks over at him beneath a veil of red hair and delibertly let's one strap of her tank top fall away. He let's out a rasp. As much as he wants her more than his next breath, he has to ask. "Nat… Why?" Please, please, please his eyes beg, tell me that this isn't just about work, about fixing your partner.

"I've been compromised Agent Barton." She smiles, a little sadly. "I have been for a long time." The second strap falls and the slip of black silk pools at her feet and she'd completely nude save for a pair of very small black lace panties.

The sight of her is breathtaking, not the nudity, or at least not just that. They've seen each other naked during mission, stitched up just about every body part - but this is different, she's not covered in gore or seducing some drug lord who's body will never be found. She's HIS. The heat radiating from her is more than the sum of all those splendid parts (ridiculously luscious lips, ivory skin and perfect breasts, small nipples hard and bitable… the list goes on forever). No. It's as if she gives off a special smoldering heat directed just for him.

She kneels him straddling and takes out the knife, she slowly, deliberately slices each corner of black lace and tosses the ruined cloth behind her. Sweat breaks out all over him. "Normally, I think I'd like you to tear them off… but there's always next time." He's not sure which words send more blood to his cock, but it throbs with the idea of ripping that swatch of material, and that she's thinking in the future tense.

On all fours above him she drops her head till their lips are inches apart her voice comes out a breathy whisper. "Kiss me."

His mouth devours hers, locked on in the only way he physically can, he kisses her like he wants to swallow her, like he has her on a hook, as though he could hold her that way, no matter how helpless he was before her. The perfect partnership of lips tongues and will continued as her breasts pressed against him, luscious and sweet, feasting on each other as his wrists pulled mercilessly against the handcuffs.

Gasping she pulls from the kiss, almost undone by the way he managed to possess her, even bound and pinned beneath her. She rears up and pants his name. "Clint." Positioning herself above him, he grits his teeth trying not to rut up at her. "I'm going to fuck you now." A spike of terror shoots through lust in his eyes. "And you're only going to think about me." She lowers herself down on him, so tight and wet it astonishes him, obliterates any thought except HER, her convulsing flesh around his cock, her breasts as the bounce with her movements, nothing else matters.

Forcing herself down on him again and again, she throws back her head and yells out to a god neither of them believe in, as her movements speed up. Knowing he's on a razors edge, she bends down and kisses him again. Lost in that moment, kissing her brutally he loses himself inside her completely. She explodes above him, moaning animalistic and raw. He holds nothing back, spending into her, fucking her harder than he's ever fucked anything real or phantom of the imagination in his entire life.

She collapses against him and they lie entwined for minutes while heartbeats and breathing slow. Staring at him, at his dark, un-iced blue eyes, she smiles. "Glad you're still with me."

"I'm still here - you're still here. You were right." His answering smile is one of awe and humor. "Your powers of persuasion are truly amazing."

She smirks at him "Never doubt your partner, I'm always right." She uncuffs him and frowns at the marks on he's made from pulling against them, kissing the inside of each wrist, he shutters as he sits up, crushing her against him in an embrace that would hurt a ordinary person. She only sighs in approval and returns the embrace.

They stay like that until a slip of paper makes a small sound as it glides under the door.

_Nat,_

_Your mission to fix your hawk, while successful, has done nothing to help the other members of the team sleep. As it now stands Bruce has put himself into the isolation chamber until he can get his heart rate down, Thor has excused himself to be with his 'Lady Jane' for the week, Pepper is exhausted (naturally, because I'm as awesome in bed as I am everywhere else), and Steve is destroying every punching bag in greater Manhattan. _

_You and your Hawk are hereby banished to the top floor of the tower where Pepper is currently redesigning a single unit for you both with extra soundproofing, it should be ready by Tuesday. In the mean time, just getting the superhero porn soundtrack without images is just cruel. Please either check into the nearest hotel or stop reprogramming Jarvis to disable the video feeds._

_With Thanks,_

_Tony_

-Finis

AN- this is a Sequel to Mercy, thanks to everyone who reviewed the first one!

Prequel can be found at s/8185891/1/Mercy

Did you know that commenting make you a better and more attractive person? it's true, just hit the buttons below and find out :)

This was un-betaed so all stupid typos are mine, but I felt the need to get this one out as it has been percolating in my brain for far too long.

Roar_Ra


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